


Everything means Nothing

by Phimie



Category: Death Note, Death Note: Another Note
Genre: (Briefly) Clueless A, Angst and Humor, Creepy BB, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Psychosis, Questionable happy ending, Suicide, referenced abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4182483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phimie/pseuds/Phimie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, The Anatomy of "Unilateral"</p>
<p>It started with a crush and ended with a crushing pain in his chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything means Nothing

"A fresh start," they had called it, but to him it felt like moving to a completely different world.

Calling himself B felt weird. Experiencing a sense of belonging for the first time felt weird. Not hiding under the table or in his closet or under his bed - not _having_ to hide, because no one wanted to hurt him any more - felt weird.

Living with so many other kids, not knowing who they were, and them not knowing who he was, felt weird.

B liked weird, he decided, lips curling upwards as he watched the heavy rain pour against the windows of this place he could call  _home_.

 

* * *

 

Not everyone liked weird, it seemed. The word was used against him every day, and he certainly wasn't well-liked.

It was fine, though, because being ignored didn't give him bruises or cuts, it didn't make him bleed or crack his skull open, even if it did occasionally make him cry far more than he had in his mother's funeral.

"I'm sorry," the voice cut through the buzzing silence and resonated in his head as he turned around to face its owner.

It was a young boy that couldn't have been more than a couple years older than himself, whose hazel eyes, barely visible under the dirty blond bangs, were fixed on an unclear spot on the floor. He scratched the back of his neck in a way that showed he was uncomfortable, perhaps a tad nervous.

"Hm, I..." he coughed awkwardly. "I'm A - for Alternate."

 _Autumn Diaz_ , he read, frowning slightly at the numbers he unwillingly faced. A wouldn't last long.

"B," he offered, stoic. 

"I know who you are," the words were followed by a nervous giggle. "Everyone does."

 _Everyone knows everyone_. He bit his lip.

"You said you were sorry?" it sounded like a question even though he hadn't meant it to, and A was back to scratching the back of his neck, definitely nervous this time.

"It's just... The boys are quite mean to you," he explained weakly. "I'm sorry," he repeated, and once more his voice rang in B's ears, with no clear reason.

"No one's mean to me."

"No one's nice to you," the response came too quickly. 

B tilted his head.

"Have you been planning this conversation?"

"I-that's..." A sighed, "You just seem lonely." 

"That's not exactly an answer."

A shrugged, "You don't seem to need one."

B smiled for the second time since he could remember.

It was  _weird_ , because B had never talked to this boy before, yet he wanted to know more than his name and life-spam, and he wanted to tell him as much about himself as he'd like to hear from the other.   
He wanted to tell A about the nightmares that stole his sleep, in which death itself came to get him.  
He wanted to tell A about his mother, about how she would yell and hit him during the day, and then cry and sing him lullabies during the night, about how she would sometimes hold him close and tell him they only had each other, because his father had abandoned them both. About how peaceful she had looked when her numbers reached zero.

But he didn't know where to start, and so he stayed silent until A began squirming under his gaze.

"There's no need for you to apologise," he said at last. "It's not your fault."

With that, he turned back to the large window, even though there was no more calming rain to distract him from the quiet storm inside his head. His eyes followed A's reflection as he left the room.

Later on, he learnt that the conversation had been a mere product of a bet produced by whatever silly game the boys happened to be playing, but the knowledge didn't disturb him. From what he'd gathered, it wasn't required for A to apologise. It wasn't required for A to be  _nice_ to him. He'd done it of his own accord. 

A week went by, and it was the longest B had gone without crying.

 

* * *

 

"It's that weird boy again," a girl snickered from her spot on the floor.

A looked over his shoulder, despite already knowing it who it was.

"Yeah," he confirmed unnecessarily. "Watching the rain, as always," he shrugged.

She clicked her tongue. "He's not watching the _rain_ any more, silly," she straightened her back and tilted her head to fully face the young boy sitting on the small sofa. "He's watching _you_."

He felt almost dizzy as the words sunk in, forcing himself to let out a breathy laugh, "No way."

"Yes way," one of the boys teased.

"He shows up wherever we go," another completed in the same teasing tone.

A slumped his shoulders, gaze falling to the homework sitting on his crossed legs, "You guys are crazy." He picked a pencil and started tapping it against his textbook to try and ease some of the tension, "We should just get back to work." He suggested casually yet firmly, a hand pressing against his forehead in an attempt to stop the oncoming migraine on its tracks.

"Whatever, loverboy," the words were met with a swift roll of his eyes, though his ears were buzzing too loudly for him to know who had said them.

It couldn't be, right? They'd talked _once_ , for fuck's sake! It just couldn't be.

Right?

 _No one else's talked to him_ , a voice in the back of his head told him.  _Not even_ once.

It didn't take long - in fact, it was less than a minute - for him to groan in frustration and drop the carefully arranged books from his lap down to the floor, hitting a few of his friends in the process and earning him mildly annoyed protests.

"You're right," he grunted, hiding his face behind his hands. "He's following us."

"Following you," R, the oldest of them, corrected him.

A sprawled his feet along the sofa, effectively making the dark-haired boy drop to the floor.

The collective laughter that ensued made A bite his lip nervously as he waited for them regain their composure.

"Done yet?" he asked when they were all relatively silent again, save for panting.

Some of them nodded, so he sighed heavily and went back to sitting upright. R didn't return to his seat, though.

"So, what are you gonna do about it?" He inquired.

"What _can_ I do about it?" A whined, "It's just a minor crush," he stated, stoic. "They don't usually last long."

"There's nothing _usual_ about B," the retort was followed by a chorus of approval.

A sneaked another brief peek at B. The boy wasn't even looking in their direction, but he couldn't go back to denial even if he tried. The mere fact that B was in the common room, forsaking his beloved privacy, meant he was after something. It was a known fact that he avoided others as much as they avoided him, if not more. Yes... 

He was after A.

"I should've seen this coming," he shook his head. "You guys had to see the way he stared at me when we talked."

 

* * *

 

B had been "advised" to spend more time outside countless times. Today, though - a chilly autumn evening - was when he decided to push past the large oak doors to rest under a tree, body coated with sunscreen despite the weather and carrying under his arm a book fresh out of the library, one A had borrowed countless times. He kept looking up in the sand-haired boy's direction, hoping he'd catch a glimpse of the book and realise he was making an effort to get closer to him, to understand him.

It didn't seem to work, but that was fine, too.

At one point, A was everything he could focus on, book lying between his legs, long since forgotten. From here, he could watch A as he played by himself, occasionally laughing but never once glancing in B's direction.

 _I want to play like that to..._  

The unsaid words left a bitter taste in his mouth, one that felt like it would be there no matter how hard he swallowed.

As the hours went by, A's sweaty and breathless form came to rest near the spot B had taken - there was the blond, leaning his back into one of the taller trees, sighing in a mix of content and tiredness, and B simply couldn't look away.

One yellow autumn leaf gracefully fell on top of his head, and B wanted to make some stupidly witty retort about the season and the boy's name. It was at the tip of this tongue and went no further. A ball of unsaid words formed in his mouth, heart racing. A was within hearing distance.

B swallowed.

All of a sudden, his whole body felt heavy with an unshakeable feeling of defeat, and he started getting up to leave, book in hand and a hole in his heart. 

There was not much to distract him today, unfortunately. A slight drizzle started right after he got inside, meaning in an instant the hallways became much too crowded for his liking. Well, not like he could do anything about that.

So B retreated to his room, where he lay down in bed, letting the book rest heavily on his chest, as if to keep him in this world, mind too hazed to focus on much of anything. 

It was unclear when he fell asleep, but B's sleep was disturbed by the pouring rain.

Instead of the usual calm, his stomach churned with something akin to dread as his body moved mechanically, legs taking him to the common room, where the biggest windows of the house were located. Where he could watch the rain.

 

* * *

 

 

 _"Watch where you're going,_ Backup _."_

_"Don't call me that."_

_"I'd like to see you stop me."_

The scene unfolded just far enough for them to be able to hear it without being unwillingly involved. Somehow, though, A felt that he already was.

He sighed, "Is it weird if I say I want to help?"

"Very," Angie, the only one keeping him company at the time, frowned in response. 

"It's just..."

"Did you _not_ see him staring earlier?" she asked incredulously. A shrugged. 

"I don't like bullies," he offered.

"R could hardly be called a bully," she waved a hand dismissively. "He's just in a foul mood."

_"How do you propose I do that?"_

"Yeah, but..."

_"How about you act like a man for once and fight me, huh?"_

"A, don't do this," the girl called as he dashed into the common room, before sighing to herself in frustration. "Airhead..."

"A?" R greeted uncertainly.

A pressed his lips together and nodded vaguely in B's general direction.

"Oh?" he smirked. "I was just about to teach this creep a lesson."

"I don't believe anyone of your rank could teach me anything, _Retry_."

"See? He's not helping his case," Angie piped in, being ignored by all three boys.

"Leave him alone," A demanded before R could come up with a reply.

The older boy grumbled, "Why should I?"

"Because," he started, only then realising the flaw in his plan, "Because... I have my own business with him." His voice sounded unconvincing to his own ears, almost like he were asking a question, but he reaffirmed his statement with a cold glare.

"What might this "business" be?" R inquired, clearly unconvinced. 

"I guarantee it's nothing that requires your assistance," A was struggling to keep up his usual forceful demeanour, but the icy words seemed to do the trick.

"Whatever, I'll just find him later."

With that, the three peaceful students were left alone. A's whole body felt lighter. 

"That was _so_ risky," Angie commented in a weary tone. "I was holding my breath."

"I know," he chuckled. "I won't do it again," he felt her pat his shoulder in a sporadic gesture. "Probably," the pat turned into a disapproving slap at his mischievous words.

"You're unbelievable," she scolded and he laughed.

"Sorry, mother," he teasing words were met with a disdainful grunt. 

It was only them that they turned their attention to the dark-haired youngster staring blankly at them, eyes shining with the smallest hint of curiosity.

"Are you ok?" It was A who asked, and he nodded, "Anything you'd like to say?" The blond asked, not in expectance of any form of thanks, but because B looked troubled, like something wasn't quite right.

B shook his head, but spoke up anyways, "Who..." His voice quivered, and he cleared his throat before trying again. "Who are you talking to?"

**Author's Note:**

> I have this feeling like this could be just so much better if I had more time for editing, but I'm sick and just generally busy and in the middle of a family crisis and I'm really impatient to post this for some reason so ugh just take it.  
> Yeah.  
> It'll be reeeally short, like maybe 3 chapters long? Originally it'd be just the (very long) one, but I decided to delve into A's psychosis and create a bond between them before the inevitable happens... So yes, I'll be exploring their relationship and whatnot, meaning you'll still get BBXA goodness for a bit (probably next chapter) before it all goes downhill


End file.
